


The Boiling Point

by shymin



Category: South Park
Genre: Background Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Background Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Kyle is a stubborn little shit, M/M, PC Cartman listens to beyonce, Post-Canon, Season 20 Spoilers, all other canon pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shymin/pseuds/shymin
Summary: Cartman was pure evil. A monster. Kyle knew that better than anyone else, just as Stan had said. And while Kyle had certainly witnessed some of Cartman’s worst moments, he’d also seen him at his weakest. He’d seen him cry and cried along with him. When Stan hadn’t been around, it was Cartman who he’d hung out with. Now though, as Cartman bent over his computer screen humming to himself, his signature red jacket long gone, it was hard to believe that the boy in front of him was capable of any of those things.Two months after theskankhunt42incident, there remains a mystery that Kyle cannot solve.





	The Boiling Point

 

 

It starts with rumours, as all bad things do. Kyle hears the whispers in the halls – how things are different now, how they can’t go back. How the situation has changed as a result of the past year’s events and the coming of the new PC lifestyle. It had begun as overbearing and intrusive to the town but somehow managed to crawl its way in and guilt the townspeople into conforming. He’s not quite sure when things had really escalated; it was the kind of rapid transformation usually reserved for Broadway actors between scenes. Indeed it had been quite the spectacle from start to finish (or to the current time, at least), and things had only taken a turn for the worse when the notorious web user Skankhunt42 – Kyle’s father – had decided to encroach upon the town.

Gerald had returned home a little over a month ago, perhaps unfairly unscathed, and Kyle and Ike had remained quiet. This was arguably because Gerald had been so quick to open his wallet with offers of ice cream and a particularly pricey video game when they’d open their mouths. As a result, the topic remained untouched, gathering dust as Kyle watched his mother embrace her husband in relieved obliviousness. Kyle had, of course, pondered the inevitable question of why. No matter the angle he approached it with, he could not understand why his father had done what he did, and his mind demanded a logical answer to the question. However, he’d eventually let it go after weighing the pros and cons: learn the potential answer he seeks and watch his family fall apart, or allow them to live on without knowing. He'd reluctantly decided upon the latter. Perhaps this was the kind of thing he was better off not knowing. Kyle pushed it to the back of his mind and did his best to forget about it.

Stan was back with Wendy, or, as Kyle had more recently heard, she was trying to reconcile with him while Stan feebly resisted as penance for his wounded heart at her false yet effectively heartbreaking betrayal. Kyle found the entire situation counterproductive, as they were bound to rejoin eventually. It was rather pointless, but he supposed that that was just the way they were.

Overall, the town was noticeably different now. No one had come out of the scandal untouched in some way; not Tweek or Craig, not Stan, not Butters, not Kyle himself or his little brother (whose innocence was most likely ruined for good), and least of all the one person whom Kyle had put off thinking about for as long as possible.

Eric Cartman had unquestionably changed more than anyone else since that fateful day when PC Principal had first sauntered into their school and he had not been the same since. He’d become . . . _nice_ , for lack of a better word, and there had to be a better word, Kyle felt sure. After all he’d witnessed, Kyle had firmly decided upon one thing and that was that he did not buy in to any of it. He had seen the other boy be gently beaten by the PC lifestyle as they all had; only Cartman had become something barely recognizable as his old bigoted self. The boy had even somehow managed to dupe a poor girl into dating him (Kyle never thought he’d live to see the day). He found the entire ordeal to be so completely suspicious that Kyle could not, for the life of him, begin to comprehend it, and not comprehending things was high on the list of things Kyle hated most (usually alongside Eric Cartman).

This brings us back to the whispering. Kyle stood at his locker now with Stan beside him, knapsack in hand, as he nattered on about that very subject in an aggressive hush.

“I just can’t understand, Stan. What could he possibly achieve from this? What good could come from playing nice for a while? This,” He paused, shaking his head. “This isn’t him.” He pulled a textbook from his locker, perched it under his arm, and slammed the metal door for effect. “This isn’t Cartman. Something is… Something’s wrong with him.”

Stan’s eyebrows are raised partially, but his eyes are blank with barely-concealed boredom. He shrugs one shoulder. “Dude, who cares?” He pauses, considering his words, and then starts over. “I mean, does it even matter? This is Cartman we’re talking about; God only knows what he’s up to. And so what if he’s changed? So has everything else. You’ve always wanted Cartman to be a better person, and now he sort of is. I honestly thought you’d be happy about it.”

That was true. Kyle supposed he should be happy about the way Cartman had changed; about the way everyone had changed for the better. He probably would be if not for the uncomfortable feeling that it was all an act. The tension of that possibility crept through him, cold and inescapable, and Kyle could not allow something like that to happen. Not again. He wouldn’t allow more lives to get hurt; he’d barely managed to keep together his own after the trolling incident. No, he’d be ready this time. If Cartman was up to something, Kyle would be ready to stop it before it even begins. He grips his book, eased with resolve, and exhales. He feels the tension leave his body.

“You’re right,” He says, matter of fact. “I know you’re right. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. It just – it doesn’t feel like him, y’know?"

Stan just stares. “It feels fine to me. Come on, we’re going to be late for class.”

Kyle follows him down the corridor, and Stan continues. “You two still hate each other, right?”

“Yeah,” Kyle scoffs for good measure.

“Right, so eventually he’ll do something that pisses you off, you’ll fight about it, and things will go back to normal like they always do. You just need to wait for the boiling point, cause there’s bound to be one. There always is. Here,” He holds the classroom door open and Kyle wanders in, ducking under his arm with a muttered thanks.

“It’s cool, dude,” Stan whispers as he shuts the door. “It’s gonna work itself out. You just worry too much.”

Kyle smiles at him and they take their seats. Stan has a way of staying impressively calm no matter the situation they’re thrown in to, which is rather relieving because Kyle has a tendency to do the complete opposite.

Their teacher wasn’t in yet, so Kyle began to sharpen his pencils, mostly for the sake of giving his hands something to do. He allows his mind to wander over the past conversation, and realizes it posed a question he had been unable to answer.

Why _was_ he unhappy with the change?

It didn’t just apply to Cartman. The whole town had changed in a way that Kyle had always imagined he’d want it to. For as long as he could remember he had tried to be progressive, and actively worked to fix the many moral issues in their undeniably hayseed town, so why did he find it all to be so off putting now that it had happened? Perhaps it was because things hadn’t really gotten better; there were still issues, they’d just grown beneath the surface, like the ads and internet trolling. It bothered him not to have a clear answer for his own thoughts, and as was often the case (especially lately) his mind returned to the subject of Eric Cartman.

So Cartman hadn’t been the troll. Kyle still felt bad about what they’d done to him, even though he’d already apologized. If Cartman wasn’t Skankhunt, then why hadn’t he changed back in to his old self yet? And more importantly, why did it bother Kyle so much that he hadn’t?

Lost in thought and growing frustrated again, Kyle realized he’d dropped his sharpener on to the desk and was now gripping his pencil so tightly that his knuckles were white. He let it go with an exhale, trying to ease himself back into relaxation. Too many questions. Too many digits that didn’t add up. He felt briefly as if something were building inside him and threatening to burst, and was again reminded of what Stan had said to him.

Struck with an idea, Kyle scrambled to open his knapsack and pull out a sheet of lined paper. He heard the creak of the classroom door opening; the teacher must have arrived. Kyle slammed his paper on to the desk – perhaps a little too enthusiastically; he earned some odd looks from the students around him – and pressed his pencil to the first line. He made a promise to himself right then and there to get to the bottom of this, to get answers. He began to write.

Above him, the teacher began to speak. “Class, let’s begin.”

 

-

 

“Hey Kenny, could you pass me the twenties? And the thimble, too.”

“Sure, dude,” Came a muffled reply, and a moment later the aforementioned Monopoly items were tossed haphazardly into and across Kyle’s lap.

School was out for the day, and Kyle, Kenny, and Stan were camped out on the floor of Stan’s living room carpet amid a slew of glitter, glue, and game board pieces. Clyde and Craig had spent much of the day’s lunch hour boasting about a homemade music video they’d created, and so it was only natural that the boys take it upon themselves to make one that was far superior.

Kyle watched Kenny cross and uncross his legs, feeling nostalgic. They hardly saw Kenny anymore. That was another thing that had changed over the past months; their group had diminished since Cartman had started acting differently and stopped hanging out with them. Kenny had slowly been drifting away too, and he’d only agreed to join them today because Stan had said that his mother would be baking cookies. Count on Kenny to be bribed with free food. It almost felt the way it had before all this PC nonsense began, but the occasional gaps of silence were glaring to Kyle.

“Would you pass me the glue, Kyle?” Stan asked, not looking up from the arrangement of counterfeit bills in his left hand. Kyle nodded.

“Hey, doesn’t Bebe have a birthday or something this week?” Stan added. He raised his head in acknowledgement when Kyle placed the glue down beside him. “Thanks, man.”

Kyle leaned back. “It’s a funeral, and yeah. Who’d you hear that from?”

“Wendy,” Came the quick reply. Of course. “Who died?”

“Her grandpa, I think. She mentioned it a few days ago in class. We’re all invited to attend, but I doubt that anyone will go. It’s not like any of us knew him.”

“Yeah.” Silence.

Kyle looked up. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just . . . Wendy’s going.”

Kyle raised his eyes. “So you think you should go?”

Another silence. Then, “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely go,” Kenny interjected.

Kyle and Stan both turned in unison. “Why?” Kyle asked, but was interrupted by a shout from the kitchen before Kenny could reply.

“Stanley!” It was Sharon’s voice. Perhaps she thought they were upstairs, for she spoke unnecessarily loud. “Cookies are ready!”

“Thanks, mom,” Stan deadpanned.

There was a thundering down the stairs behind them as Stan’s sister barrelled into the living room, pushing past them as she beelined for the kitchen. “Out of the way, turd.”

“Sorry, Shelley.”

Kyle turned back to face Kenny. “Why’d you say Stan should go to the funeral?”

“Cause,” Kenny fiddled with the drawstrings on his coat hood, untightening to ease his speech. “Chicks fucking love that, man. They like it when guys act all sensitive and shit. Makes ‘em think we’re sweet or something.” He threw his hands up. “I don’t get it, but it never fails.”

For whatever reason, the first thing to pass through Kyle’s mind was Cartman. Was that how he’d managed to snatch up a girlfriend? Must have been, Kyle figured, certainly no girl would’ve wanted him the way he was before. Kyle had met Heidi and she’d seemed fairly smart, so why had she bought in to his act?

Stan looked downcast. “I don’t need to impress her. She’s already said she wants to get back together, I just haven’t decided if I -“

“Did she apologize to you yet?” Kyle said.

“Uh, yeah. I just . . . I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Stan scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Maybe you guys need time apart,” Kyle suggested. “Y’know, so you can, like, learn to miss her.”

Stan nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, maybe. Whatever, fuck it, dude. Let’s go eat cookies.”

Kyle stood up, brushing glitter off himself. Kenny followed suit. As they entered the kitchen, he punched Kenny lightly on the shoulder.

“We missed you,” he said, and although he couldn’t read Kenny’s expression from under the hood, he felt certain the other boy was smiling back at him.

“You too, man.”

 

-

 

The following weeks went by quickly and with an almost eerie normality. The town was quiet, uncomfortably so, and it made Kyle’s skin itch. His schoolwork had doubled, which had kept him too busy to investigate the town as he’d wanted. Playing detective would just have to wait.

He’d just gotten home from school when Ike bounded in from the kitchen, threw himself on the couch, and flipped on the television. Kyle dodged around him and hung his backpack on one of the wooden chairs at the living room table.

He glanced around. The house seemed strangely empty. “Mom?” He called, peering into the kitchen. “Mom?” Kyle echoed. He turned back to face Ike. “Where is she?”

“Not here,” his little brother said. “Gym.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Huh.” He wandered fully into the kitchen and opened the fridge, deciding to make himself a drink and then get his homework out of the way as soon as he could. Sheila had joined the nearby gym just over a month ago, after the incident with Skankhunt42. Kyle wasn’t sure why. Sure, his mother could stand to lose a few pounds, but it was never something that had bothered her before. He vaguely wondered if it was because the PC lifestyle was getting under her skin too, or perhaps the trolling debacle had scared her into insecurity. He downed his drink, placed his glass in the sink to be washed later, and returned to the living room to retrieve his school supplies.

The doorbell rang.

“Ike, could you get that?” He called over his shoulder, already elbows-deep in handouts and textbooks. He heard his brother climb off the couch and scamper to the door.

“Who is it?” Ike stood in front of the closed door, speaking through the wood. He was still being taught not to open the door for strangers, though it apparently hadn’t occurred to their parents that a stranger would obviously never announce themselves as one.

“Ah, hello,” A voice said, unmistakable. Kyle’s head whipped round to view the door so fast that his neck stung with aftershock. “I’m here to see Kyle. Is he here?”

“Open it,” Kyle said, unblinking. Ike did.

“Hello,” the voice repeated, tone polite. Kyle watched the door, but his vision was mostly obscured by Ike’s small back. He could just barely make out the top of the wearer’s hat, bright yellow pompom as clear as ever. He saw Ike turn around, his mouth already half-formed around his brother’s name. Kyle nodded at him, a little uncertainly. “I’ve got it, Ike.”

His little brother returned to the couch and Kyle emptied his hands of school supplies, dumping them back into his bag. He turned and walked to the door where Cartman stood. The boy was staring at his feet and twiddling his thumbs in front of him, reminiscent of what Butters used to do. He looked up when Kyle reached the entryway. He smiled, and Kyle thought it looked strange, like the gesture didn’t quite fit his face.

“Hey, Kyle. Long time no see, man.”

“Yeah.” Kyle stared at him. Everything suddenly felt very surreal. “What are you doing here?”

Cartman nodded. “Well. My computer isn’t working, y’see. I think it may have a virus or something, and I remembered that you used to be pretty good at all that tech-y stuff. So I was hoping that maybe you would help me fix it.”

“Computer?” Kyle echoed blankly.

Cartman’s smile slipped a little. “Oh, yeah. When my mom heard that I’d lost my stuff she bought me a new one.”

 _Lost?_ Kyle felt nauseous.

“So do you mind, Kyle?”

“Huh?”

“Could you help me out?”

Kyle blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.” He glanced around, unfocused. “Let me just grab my bag.”

“Ike, I should be back in about an hour,” he said dazedly. “So don’t go anywhere.” He crossed the room to snatch up his knapsack, feet moving on muscle memory alone. Surreal.

He followed Cartman out of the house and down the street to his own place, waiting aside as Cartman unlocked the door. “It’s just upstairs,” he explained as they entered, and Kyle figured he must be saying it to try to fill the silence because _as if that wasn’t obvious, as if Kyle hadn’t been here a hundred times before._

The house looked far cleaner than Kyle remembered it, though he couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d been there. He followed Cartman up the stairs and down the hallway to his room.

“So how are the guys?” Cartman was talking. “It’s been a while since I hung out with my friends.”

 _Friends?_ The word hit Kyle’s mind like water against a dam. Was this a guilt tactic? Kyle felt a little perturbed, though Cartman didn’t seem to be referring directly to him. He struggled to answer.

“Uh, they’re good, I guess. I haven’t seen much of Kenny lately, though. Stan’s back with Wendy.” He half expected a snide remark about the on-again off-again couple, but none came. He felt oddly disappointed.

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” Cartman murmured, drawing out the syllables in that way of his that was always so distinctive. He wandered to the desk adjacent the door where the computer sat, asleep. Kyle figured the inquiry about Stan and Kenny had to be no more than small talk and not actual conversation, which was just as well. He stood in the centre of the room and watched as Cartman flicked on the power, unsure of what to do.

“So, uh. . .” He began awkwardly. “Your mom bought you new stuff, huh.”

“Yeah. Well, just a computer. That stuff’s kinda expensive, and she can really only afford the one thing right now.”

Kyle winced inwardly. “Yeah.”

“Oh. And,” Cartman jabbed a finger at the windowsill, where there sat a small stuffed rabbit with black buttons for eyes. “She also got me that.”

Kyle walked over to it. He still had the all-too-vivid memory of Cartman murdering his old stuffed animals, which, incidentally, had also been their fault. The queasiness in his gut worsened. When set side by side, the things Cartman had done to them in the past – and to Kyle specifically – were unimaginably worse than anything they had put him through. Cartman was pure evil. A monster. Kyle knew that better than anyone else, just as Stan had said. And while Kyle had certainly witnessed some of Cartman’s worst moments, he’d also seen him at his weakest. He’d seen him cry and cried along with him. When Stan hadn’t been around, it was Cartman who he’d hung out with. Now though, as Cartman bent over his computer screen humming to himself, his signature red jacket long gone, it was hard to believe that the boy in front of him was capable of any of those things.

The computer awakened and Cartman sat back, waiting for the desktop to load. He sighed suddenly and clapped a hand on the desk. “How 'bout I put some music on for us?” He asked. The question was apparently rhetorical, because he immediately used said hand to hoist himself upright and walk to the stereo beside his bed. Kyle watched him fiddle with the buttons until a tune started to play.

He listened, wrinkling his nose at the upbeat tempo. “What is this?”

“Beyoncé, Kyle,” Cartman said seriously. “She’s the voice of the young female generation.”

Kyle’s mouth opened and then closed. He had no idea what to say to that. Fortunately, he was saved having to come up with a response by a sudden ding from the computer and a pop-up on the desktop screen. It was a warning he recognized. Without another word to Cartman, Kyle slid himself into the computer chair and began to work. The other boy sauntered up next to him a minute later, lips moving silently along to what sounded very much like a cliché pop song to Kyle.

They remained that way for nearly ten minutes, with Cartman bobbing his head to music while Kyle implemented firewalls. Finally, he slid back.

“Okay, it should be fine now.”

Cartman beamed. “I knew you’d be able to do it, Kyle. Thanks for fixing it, dude.”

“Sorry it had to be fixed,” Kyle replied, jaw tight. Surely Cartman would understand his double meaning, but the other boy just kept on smiling, eyes wide and oblivious.

The room fell into uncomfortable silence once more. The music seemed muted now, and Kyle fought the urge to fidget. Cartman was looking at him expectantly.

“Ah, the bunny,” Kyle started, remembering his previous excuse. “What’s its name?”

Cartman blinked slowly, curiously. “I didn’t give it one,” he said.

Kyle tasted bile rise in his throat.

“O-oh,” he managed. Alarms bells rang in his head. “You should give it one.” It was all he could think to say. “Really.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Cartman said absentmindedly, uncaring. He turned to glance at it briefly, looking distracted.

Kyle coughed. He stood up. “Right, well. Let me know if there are any more problems with it. Uh, the computer.” He added hastily.

Cartman nodded. “Sure, will do. Thanks again, man. Do you want me to show you out?”

Kyle waved him off, managing what he hoped was a reassuring look. “That’s alright. I know my way.” He glanced around the room once more, eyes settling on the nameless rabbit, its eyes dark. “Well, goodbye, Cartman.”

“Yeah. Seeya, Kyle.”

He gave a final wave and Kyle left, retracing his steps down the hallway and staircase. He didn’t dare look back. His head throbbed. He felt utterly sick.

 

-

 

The following day, Kyle was quiet.

He and Stan were in the school cafeteria line, their hands gripping matching plastic trays as they waited for food. Stan was talking animatedly about . . . something. Kyle thought he’d heard Token’s name mentioned, and maybe Bebe’s, but he’d stopped listening a short while ago. His mind was preoccupied.

The encounter from the previous night kept replaying in his head like a siren on a police car. If he’d thought something was wrong before, he certainly felt it now, and the sensation tugged at the corners of his mind insistently. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, either; his mind running over possibilities, and it showed. Clyde had asked him if he’d forgotten to take off yesterday’s makeup. Kyle had told him to _fuck off unless he’d like some dark eyes too_ and laughed.

“. . . You know, Kyle? Kyle?” Stan’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Dude, you okay?”

Kyle blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Go on.”

Stan looked at him. “That was pretty much it, actually. No, seriously, are you alright? You’re all spacey.”

“Uh, yeah.” Kyle lowered his eyes. “Just . . .” Eh, screw it. “Cartman came by my house last night.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It was really weird. He was asking about you and Kenny, calling us his friends and stuff . . .”

“He came by to ask about us?”

“Oh, no. He said he needed his computer fixed.” Kyle saw Stan’s eyes sharpen, his brows furrowing. “Yeah, apparently his mom got him a new one.” Kyle explained. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

Kyle shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. His house was like, cleaner and stuff, and he was saying that his mom hadn’t been able to afford anything else . . . But he seemed fine with it, not upset or anything.” He paused. “Stan, he had this new stuffed animal, and . . . he hadn’t even named it.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So Cartman always names his stuffed animals. Isn’t that really weird?”

Stan shrugged, looking a bit confused. “Maybe he finally took our advice and grew up.”

Kyle thought about that. It was certainly a possibility, but the idea didn’t quite sit right with him. Cartman had seemed different. Like a whole different person. He wanted Stan to understand, didn’t quite understand why he _couldn’t_ when it all felt so obvious, but was unable to form a coherent explanation. No particular reason or action stood out to him. Frustrated, he grappled to answer and only managed a simple, “No.”

The line inched forward and they reached the serving counter, Stan turning to speak with the cafeteria woman in a plea for food. A moment later, they both held their meals.

“Craig’s table?” Stan suggested.

“Ugh. Sure.”

They made their way through the crowd, and Kyle found his eyes wandering, searching for Cartman. He finally spotted him in a far corner of the room, at a table mostly occupied by girls. Heidi Turner sat beside him. One of the girls seemed to be telling a story, her arms waving about wildly. Kyle watched her pause, apparently waiting for a reaction to her tale. Cartman said something, and all the girls laughed. Kyle turned away in disgust.

He didn’t have a hang-up against women, right? That had just been Cartman being stupid.

“Miss your boyfriend, Kyle?” Clyde laughed, and Kyle realized they must’ve reached Craig’s table, and also that Clyde was really going to get what was coming to him. Craig sniggered, which was ridiculous considering his actual boyfriend was _sitting right there_. Kyle sighed and seated himself beside Tweek, who was far from Clyde and at least had a tendency to be quiet unless spoken to. Stan followed and sat at his other side.

“Hey, at least Cartman didn’t just want him for shoes,” Token said, and although it wasn’t really any better than the previous comment Kyle still smiled as Clyde slumped down in his seat.

He listened to the conversation go from President Garrison to gym class to the new movies showing at the theatre (Kyle still wants to see the new Guardians of the Galaxy, even if Token says it’s not as good as the first). His mind wanders off again and so do his eyes, which droop tiredly as he pushes food around his plate.

He’s half asleep when colours form shapes and he’s snapped out of his daze, realizing just who his eyes had decided to settle on. Kyle flushes, embarrassed. Cartman hadn’t noticed him, and Kyle’s just about to redirect his gaze back to his table when Heidi turns her head and their eyes meet.

She looked at him curiously, smiling in a way that says she isn’t sure if she should be or not. Kyle thought about returning the smile and then decided against it, instead settling on just staring at her, wondering what the hell a nice normal girl like Heidi could have seen in Cartman.

Heidi offered a small wave, looking mildly uncomfortable now, and the motion must catch Cartman’s attention because then he turns too. Kyle immediately averts his gaze.

He pokes Stan. “Stan.”

Stan turns, looking a little irritated at having been interrupted from his conversation. _Oh well_ , Kyle thinks. This feels more important.

“You know Heidi Turner, from the other class?”

“What, you mean Cartman’s girlfriend?” His eyes search the room, presumably looking for her.

Kyle nods quickly. “Yeah, her.” He hopes Stan isn’t being too obvious about his looking, this feels secret; private. He especially doesn’t want Heidi or Cartman to know that he’s discussing them. He inches closer.

“What do you think she sees in him?”

Stan’s face scrunches up. “Dude, how the hell should I know? She’s probably an idiot,” he says, and Kyle doesn’t mention that he knows that that isn’t true. Stan looks away, stabbing at a piece of pasta with his fork. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you go ask her?”

Huh. Ask her. Kyle blinks slowly, imagining how that might go. _Hey Heidi, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but tell me. Are you aware that your boyfriend is_ _a bigoted, evil, racist asshole? No? Alright, nice talking to you!_ He shakes the thought away, bewildered.

“No,” he replies, head shaking more vigorously. “No. Cannot do that.”

Stan turns back to face him, looking suddenly pensive. He squints at Kyle and leans toward him. “Y’know what I think?”

Kyle leans back, put off by the scrutiny. “I’m getting the feeling I might not want to.”

Stan continues. “This is like – you’re like in the sixth Harry Potter book. Remember when Harry gets all obsessed with Draco cause he thinks he’s up to something, so he starts following him around the school, and casts that really awful spell on him? The one that made him bleed all over the place?”

“Sectumsempra,” Kyle offers, frowning.

“Right, that’s the one. You’re being like that.”

Kyle looked thoughtful. “I wish I had a killer spell I could use on Cartman.”

“Dude, chill.”

Kyle laughed and slapped him on the back. “I should really dial it back a bit, shouldn’t I? Yeah. Thanks, Stan. You’re a big help. And so was your weird Harry Potter analogy.”

Stan smiled. “You know, I’m starting to think all our conversations end this way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my [tumblr](shaiapitou.tumblr.com) if you feel like chatting!  
> Part 2 will (ideally) be up within a month.


End file.
